Sadness Gets So Lost
by Scar Estell
Summary: While searching for a secluded spot to end his life, Moritz Stiefel stumbles upon his childhood friend, Ilse.  She may be his only hope.  The path Moritz follows will change his life forever.


_Spring and summer every other day._

_Blue wind gets so pained_

_Blowin' through the thick corn_

_Through the bales of hay._

_Through the sudden drift of the rain_

_Spring and summer._

Moritz trudged through the moist leaves and broken branches that were scattered about the forest floor. The air possessed the subtle scent of flowers. New life and new chances hung in the smell of the just-blooming flowers, yet he trudged on to find a suitable spot in which he could bring it all to an end with the pull of a flimsy trigger.

He clutched his chest aggressively, holding onto the pistol hiding inside his jacket. A small smile twitched onto his face. It was almost over.

_Just a little longer.—A little longer…_

He reached a shady part of the forest where the sun just barely shone through the twisting treetops. He pulled the pistol from his jacket, examining it closely. He traced its rough shape with the type of tender affection a parent has when it holds a child in its arms. It was time.

The birds sang sweetly as Mortiz raised the pistol to his right temple and put his hand on the trigger. His whole body quivered, but he knew this was what he wanted. His brain was throwing a fit, as if enraged that his whole life had been other people and things playing god over him, and his uncontrollable longings that he could barely contain. Thoughts of his father ran through his head. He wondered if he would miss him, but decided it wasn't worth considering. Ten more seconds to relish his lifetime was enough for him. Ten seconds until that loud sound would pierce into the distance.

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9…_

"Moritz Stiefel..?"

Moritz quickly and discretely fumbled the gun back into his jacket as he ran a few feet to a nearby tree. He leaned against it, debating if he should hide, and then finally turned to see who was there. At first he thought he had merely imagined the voice, but when he looked over his shoulder, he saw a girl. She seemed familiar, but she was so disheveled and mangy that he couldn't possibly…

"I-Ilse?" he asked in disbelief.

Moritz looked her over with wide eyes full of disbelief and a small trace of confusion. The Ilse he had known back home always had neat and tidy braids that just barely went past her breasts, and she had always worn modest and feminine school dresses. The girl that stood before him had wild, wavy hair that went down to her hips and looked rather unkempt—but he found it almost attractive, as it was a nice frame around her sweet face. She wore nothing more than a button-up men's shirt, with the top three buttons undone. She held a bushy bouquet of flowers that Moritz assumed she had picked from the nearby meadow. This must become of people with nowhere to go and no one to live for, Moritz decided. Ilse's disappearance was all a blur to him. At home, whenever he asked where she'd gone, his parents merely shot each other a quick glance and said they didn't know. Though her face was sweet, it was obvious that she'd been through a lot—perhaps more than Moritz.

"Why are you all the way out here?"

"You frightened me." He didn't what else to say.

"Did you lose someth—"

"Why did you frighten me?" The words came out much harsher than he'd intended, and he saw her body language change from friendly to slightly frightened. He lowered his head in defeat and mumbled under his breath. "Dammit…"

She pressed on anyway.

"What are you… looking for?" Moritz's face twitched at this question. He debated an answer, but couldn't think of anything worth contributing to their awkward conversation.

"If only I knew," he said half-heartedly.

Ilse smiled and muffled back a small giggle. "Then what's the use of looking?" she replied enthusiastically. Her sunny aura had returned and she began to move closer to Moritz, which made him disgustingly uncomfortable. He held his arms stiffly at his sides as she approached him.

"So, where have you been keeping yourself?"

"The artist's colony," she replied. Her face spread into a wide, amused grin. "All those old buggers, Moritz. All so wild… so bohemian. Al they want to do is dress me up and paint me!" She laughed hysterically, and Moritz tried to generate a smile, but his face just twitched again. "They're always knocking easels down and chasing me." She picked a twig up off the ground and poked Moritz with it playfully. "Dabbing me with their paintbrushes! But… that's men—if they can't stick you with one thing they'll try another." Again, she laughed hysterically to herself. Moritz began to wonder if this really was the girl he'd once had a lovesick crush on back in his early school years.

"Ha… ha ha…" He laughed nervously, even more uncomfortable than before.

"Oh, god!" she exclaimed, obviously remembering some other piece of information she just had to tell. "The other night, Mortiz… we all got _sooo_ fucking drunk… I passed out!" More laughter. "I just lay there unconscious ALL NIGHT! But then… I spent an _entire _week… with Gustav Falm, truly inhaling that ether of his." She closed her eyes and seemed to have a moment of peace, resurfacing that memory. Her face turned sour and her eyes glistened, as if ready to produce tears. "Until this morning when he woke me with a gun set against my breast." She choked out the last few words. "He said, 'One twitch, and it's the end!'." She caressed herself, trying to comfort the bad memory away from her mind. "It really gave me goose-bumps."

"Ilse, I'm so sorry that—"

She was sunny again. "What's new with you, Moritz? Still in school?"

He clenched his fists and looked away. "Well, this semester I'm through."

She ran her fingers through the bouquet of flowers, averting her eyes. Again, she choked out her words. "God. You… you remember how we used to run back to my house and play pirates? Wendla Bergman, Melchior Gabor, you, and I?" She got even closer to him, as if longing for the sweet comfort of nostalgia.

"Ilse… I really have to go." He stumbled away from the tree and began to set off deeper into the woods.

"Wait! Walk as far as my house with me?"

Although he wanted to get away, it killed him to just leave her. He took an interest in her proposal.

"And..?"

"We'll dig up our old tomahawks and play together… Moritz, just like we used to."

"We did have some remarkable times." This time, a real, sincere smile crept its way onto his face. He laughed at their childish antics all those years ago. "Hiding in our wigwam!"

"Haha, yes!" The two laughed together, sharing a small moment of lightheartedness. "I'll brush your hair and curl it!" she added playfully. The thought of Ilse's fingers running through his hair struck a chord.

"I wish I could." He replied, stone-faced.

"Then… why don't you?"

"Eighty lines of Virgil, equations, and—"

"Just for an hour. Please."

"Honestly!" he exclaimed. Once again, his words came out harsher than he'd hoped. He backed off and toned his voice down. "I wish… I wish I could."

"Well, walk me back at least, Moritz." She had a piercing look of disbelief on her face, as if he was violating a set-in-stone code of chivalry.

"I can't."

Tears shone in her hazel eyes. She was so beautiful that Moritz could barely stand to look at her. She took a hesitant step towards him and dropped her flowers. Another step, she reached out her hands and took his face in them tenderly. Her fingers were warm and quivering. She leaned in and kissed him lightly. Moritz didn't push her away. He embraced her in his arms, running his fingers through her long tangled hair.

"Please, Moritz," she said. "Come with me."

He hesitated, but held her even tighter. "Okay," he said.

"Follow me!" She hopped on a rock and leaped over to the other side. The excitement in her voice made Moritz feel… happy.

Before he began to trail her he took the pistol from his jacket and looked it over one more time. He considered his original plan, almost raising the gun back to his temple.

A sound no louder than a snapping twig: the gun dropping to the forest floor, and a boy full of hope following the girl he loved far away from the darkness and into the light.


End file.
